


this is called a tempest of the soul, child

by revolutionaryfury



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes-centric, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Child Death, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Repressed Memories, Self-Hatred, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolutionaryfury/pseuds/revolutionaryfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier drags his old friend out of a river and rests him on a bank...and he remembers. </p><p>(Forgive me for errors; this is my first time writing anything for the Marvel fandom.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is called a tempest of the soul, child

No one can possibly know the emotions he is feeling at this moment. Even he himself cannot. So instead of thinking, he puts one foot in front of the other and walks – step, step, slog. This walking, this slogging, isn’t easy, no. The water is slowly but surely filling his boots, and the thick mud grasps them – the boots, that is – with a desperate, clinging grip that – in a way – reminds him of…no. No. NO.

“ _No_ ,” he growls aloud, hurriedly trying to shut off a part of his brain that holds dark, painful things. He fancies this part of his brain is like a large oak door that he has to strain against, as if a strong wind were blowing, lest the powerful, sanity-shattering revelations and memories come flooding past it.

But the door blows open.

 _The child can’t be more than twelve. She could be beautiful, he thinks, if perhaps she had been given the chance to grow up. Now, however, her once-warm brown eyes are blown cloudy and wide with terror; her childishly smooth skin is pockmarked with bruises and blood flows freely from lacerations all over her body; and her once-lovely purple_ hijab _hangs from her hair in matted shreds._

_“Please, please,” she screams, pounding at the metal arm that is slowly crushing her father’s windpipe. “Please don’t kill my dad!” Sobs tear from the girl’s throat as she bleeds all over the Winter Soldier. “Please!” she shrieks for the millionth time, stumbling on the body of her mother. “No! No, no, no!”_

_She is brave, he thinks, to try to save her father’s life. Bravery is an admirable trait. She is screaming something unintelligible now, gripping his metal fingers with a grip that is surprising in its desperate strength. She attempts to pry them from her father’s throat, though by now he is dead._

_A small part of the Winter Soldier is remorseful that the father is dead – that means it is the girl’s turn._

His head shoots up and he winces. Did he really do that? Murder an entire family? A mother, a father, and…a child. A twelve-year-old girl. He shakes his head and grits his teeth.

He is a _monster_.

But…monsters don’t have _this_. This emotion stirring deep inside him as he finally drags Steve up to the bank and lays him out gently.

“Monsters don’t save people’s lives,” he whispers. He looks up at the burning sun, ignoring the city in flames just a mile away. He looks down, then, at Steve. Little Stevie is so different now, not a scrawny kid with grand ideals in his head anymore, but a man with brains in his head and heroism in his heart. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, recoils, and runs.

He cannot look back.  


End file.
